


Two Ships Passing In The Night

by disgustedqueen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Oikawa is Yamaguchi's senpai, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Yamaguchi is a setter, general anxiety disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgustedqueen/pseuds/disgustedqueen
Summary: Yamaguchi attends Aoba Johsai, not for the volleyball, but because he has good grades. Being Oikawa's beloved kouhai is only the cherry on the cake, especially when he gets to glare down on Karasuno from the other side of the net.Tsukishima hates the other first years that joined the Karasuno volleyball team, they're ugly, stupid, and make fun of his crush on Aoba Johsai's second setter.





	1. Oikawa's kouhai / Suga's kouhai

When Yamaguchi had first joined the volleyball team, he had been knocked out cold five minutes in to his first practice when he miscalculated just how hard Iwaizumi’s spike was, and took it directly to the face. 

 

“ _ Why do you want to play volleyball? _ ” Oikawa had asked him, while he held five tissues on his nose and a bag of ice on his neck. He still remembers the dull throb in his nose, the pain blossoming from his nose and spreading through his cheekbones and in to his eyes. He could feel tears beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes, and openly sobbed in front of Oikawa, dripping blood down his arm when he soaked through the tissues. 

 

Yamaguchi had never really thought of why he wanted to play volleyball. He wasn’t athletic or charismatic. He didn’t have the stamina, at least not in the way the other players did. The only thing he knew about volleyball were the basic rules from watching the Youth Group play in the recreation room at Miyagi Elementary. He had spent his middle school years tutoring and studying because that’s what his mother had advised him to do. 

 

“Because I think it’s going to be fun,” Yamaguchi had answered, when Oikawa had dropped him off at his house, with his blackened nose and melted bag of ice. He knew deep, _ deep _ down that that wasn’t the only reason, but he wasn’t about to share the other reason with Oikawa yet. 

 

“Well then, let’s have fun together,” Oikawa had replied, with his charming face and stupid hair. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

When Yamaguchi was younger, he tended to get picked on.  _ Often _ . He wasn’t really sure what is what about him that made kids hate him, but they did. He was smaller than most in the class, and the smartest, and he had the ugly freckles that he had tried to scratch off when he was six, but none of those should have warranted the relentless bullying he received. 

 

And yet, everyday after school, other kids would harass him. They would throw their bags at him and make him carry them to the train, dump their milk in to his shoes, refuse to return his papers. Sometime in June, he remembered being on lunch duty, and one of the student’s stole the envelope of money that he had collected and thrown it away. 

 

In third grade, he remembered Aiura had pushed him down while he walked home, and stepped on his hand, crushing it under his tennis shoes. Tears immediately welled up in his eyes, streaking down his face. “Why are you always crying Yamaguchi? Stop being such a baby, you’re eight.” 

 

“I’m not a baby,” He replied, but his lip quivered, and his cheeks hurt from trying to not sob. His hand throbbed with pain. 

 

“Well, if you’re not a baby, that means you can carry our bags for us, right?” Aiura asked, and threw his bag onto Yamaguchi’s stomach. It was heavy. His hand crunched under Aiura’s weight, and he nodded quickly in agreement. 

 

The other kid that was with Aiura suddenly elbowed him. “Dude, there’s a sixth grader coming,” He hissed in a low voice, and sure enough, a tall, looming shadow crossed over the three of them. Yamaguchi locked eyes with the passersby, who seemed like a giant while he laid in the sand.

 

“Why don’t you get off him?” The sixth grader asked, looking down at Aiura. 

 

“Why don’t you mind your own _ fucking  _ business?” Aiura replied, smirking. Yamaguchi had never heard that word at elementary school, and filed it away for future reference. 

 

The sixth grade stepped closer to him, and in the deepest, scariest voice that Yamaguchi could have imagined as an eight-year-old, he looked at Aiura and said: “You’re pathetic.”

 

It didn’t take long for Aiura and his lackey to leave after that, and Yamaguchi was left in the sand, holding Aiura’s bag, and tears dried on his cheeks. “Ah, uhm,” He started, to thank the sixth grader, but he was gone already. 

 

Shortly thereafter, he decided to join a sport. He figured if he was in a sport, he would have friends, and no one would pick on him anymore. All the sports seemed terrifying, and he resigned himself to watching volleyball in the recreation room. It was more peaceful than the basketball practices he had witnessed. 

 

Looking back on it now, Yamaguchi knows a lot of the memories are fuzzy. He can’t remember the sixth’s graders name, or if he even was a sixth grader. All he can remember was that he was tall. He remembers putting in an application for the volleyball youth group, but the coach admitted they had more than enough players, and he would be better off watching from the sidelines until the next year. 

 

Yamaguchi didn’t join the next year. Or the year after that. 

 

The thought of joining volleyball didn’t occur to him again until his first day at Aoba Johsai, when Oikawa was going from room to room passing out volleyball fliers. “Join the volleyball team, we’re going to nationals!” He would call out as he passed each desk. Yamaguchi hadn’t brought any gym clothes with him that day, but after his last class, he had all but sprinted towards the fourth gymnasium, the application clenched firmly in his left fist. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

As it turned out, Yamaguchi sucked at volleyball. 

He could tell the other players were starting to get restless, watching him try (and fail) to rally the volleyball back and forth with Oikawa. His receives sucked, and when the rest of the group forced for actual practice to begin, his everything else sucked. He had slammed all his weight forward and knocked the wind out of himself while trying to receive a serve. 

 

Kunimi tried to show him how to serve. The ball went rocketing off to the left, way out of bounds. Flushed, embarrassed and sweaty, Yamaguchi had recollected it only to do it half a dozen more times, and Kunimi had finally pressed his lips together and walked away. 

 

Blocking wasn’t much better. He was fairly tall, but that didn’t seem to be any favors for him, and after Iwaizumi smashed his forth serve through his toothpicks of arms, Yamaguchi finally approached Oikawa to officially resign from the team. 

 

“Resign?” Oikawa repeated. 

 

“I’m just dragging the team down,” Yamaguchi replied, and he held his throbbing forearms against the sweat of his body so that they felt marginally better. Every pore on his body was dripping with sweat. He ran in the evenings, but that was a walk in the park compared to today. 

 

“Let’s try one more thing,” Oikawa replied, placing his water bottle back down. He slid his towel off his shoulders and rejoined them on the court. “And if after this, you still want to resign, I won’t stop you.” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

  
  


The only reason Tsukishima was going to Karasuno was because Akiteru had gone there. His grades were impeccable, so realistically he had gone to any high school in the Miyagi Prefecture, but when the time had come to fill out his advisement sheet, Karasuno was the only high school he wrote. 

 

Karasuno wasn’t really known for anything, but it’s college preparation classes weren’t bad, and he could at least sit by the window and stare at the sports students practicing during breaks. 

 

Tsukishima hadn’t played volleyball at all during middle school. After Elementary school, it had stopped being fun. It wasn’t something he enjoyed practicing or talking about anymore - Akiteru had ripped that from him. It was just a club, it was just an activity to pass time, it wasn’t anything more than that. 

 

He isn’t exactly sure what drives him to the second gymnasium after the third day of school. He was bored, and none of his friends had chose Karasuno, not that he really had any friends. Friendly acquaintances that would listen to him sometimes, and his track record at Karasuno was an outstanding zero people that enjoyed his company. Volleyball, as much as he didn’t enjoy it, at least gave a sense of community and people that were forced to rely on his presence. 

 

For the most part he was right, the second and third years were interesting and fun to play with. They acted like a big family and Tsukishima felt like he was part of it - no matter how much their volleyball team sucked ass. His fellow first years, however, Tsukishima could feel them literally  _ bouncing _ on his last nerve. 

 

Aside from the very first practice match he had against Hinata and Kageyama, Tsukishima hadn’t been impressed with them. Hinata could jump high, but couldn’t do much of anything else, and almost relied entirely upon Kageyama, which then tore Kageyama’s attention away from the other players. Tsukishima preferred practicing his spikes with Sugawara for various different reasons, but the biggest one was the fact that Sugawara didn’t act like he was shit on the bottom of his shoes. 

 

Sugawara threw decent, textbook tosses. They were easy to hit, although when Sugawara had asked him if he needed anything different he had started throwing the tosses higher to accommodate his height. Kageyama, on the other hand, threw tosses to him like he threw them to Hinata, which just served to piss him off. So, Tsukishima stuck with the group of third years, pretending that he belonged their, and elected to ignore the brain cell that Kageyama and Hinata shared. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

When Tsukishima was five, he had declared that he was going to be the ace of volleyball. He was going to play in on the national volleyball team and beat  _ everyone _ , because he was a kid, and didn’t know how things worked. Akiteru, eleven, had only egged him on, and when ever he introduced him to his friends he would always end it with “...Japan’s future ace”. 

 

Looking back on it, it was ungodly embarrassing. The thought of any of Akiteru’s friends remembering him as Japan’s future ace made him want to curl up and die. It wasn’t like he was even that great at volleyball - his receives weren’t that good, and he tended to rely too much on letting Daichi take them rather than attempting to better himself. The only thing he was reliable for was his blocking, and the occasional spike that he could land, because Daichi would force Kageyama to toss to him. 

 

Sometimes, Tsukishima would wonder what it would be like if things played out differently. What if he had never gone and watched Akiteru’s last volleyball game? What if he had been nice to classmates in Elementary? What if he was better at volleyball? He didn’t like to ponder what if’s often, but sometimes, while he watched Hinata hit quick after quick, he couldn’t help but wonder. 

 

All he knows, is that if everyone could stop gaping at Hinata for five fucking seconds, he could show them what he was really made of. 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Their first practice match is against Aoba Johsai, a school Tsukishima would have considered if he didn’t have a one track mind for Karasuno. It was famous for both it’s volleyball team, and it’s college preparation classes. 

 

Since Takeda didn’t know much about volleyball, Daichi leads them through their strategy, and their starting line-up. Kei is place at middle blocker with Hinata, and Kageyama is allowed to set instead of Suga, because that’s what Aoba Johsai wants. Tsukishima almost offers to sit out if it means that Suga isn’t going to be tossing, but bites his tongue when he thinks about how much Kageyama would like that. 

 

“Aoba Johsai is a strong school, so I want you to put your all into this practice match, and take a lot away from it as well. This is a good chance for us to see where he we can improve. Suga and Kiyoko are going to be taking notes for us to go over after the match, understood?” 

 

Everyone nods along with him. 

 

“Good, now I want everyone to practice receives, especially you, Tsukishima, yours needs a lot of work,” Daichi says, and claps his hands to dismiss the circle. Tsukishima rolls his eyes, but partners up in a trio with Daichi and Suga to practice. 

 

They practice receives for an hour, and then spikes, and then they all jog around the school once before they’re dismissed. Tsukishima doesn’t stick around to help clean up. 


	2. Cherry Tomatoes / Strawberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed and/or left kudos! It means a lot to me! ♡
> 
> Iwaizumi/Oikawa has been added to relationship tags but please note it's not going to be a HUGE focus so if it was something you're anticipating I'm sorry to disappoint. Speaking of the pairing, it will only really be mentioned during Yamaguchi's pov since Tsukishima doesn't care about it.
> 
> I'm hoping to update every Sunday (around noon EST) but if I don't, it will probably be Monday (between 1-2p EST). HOWEVER I do work 30 hours/week and go to school full time so I'm not gonna promise anything! It might end up more of an every-other-week schedule ^-^

Aoba Johsai is a huge school with the worst looking uniforms Tsukishima has ever had the displeasure of looking at. Karasuno might not have a lot to offer, but at least he doesn't have to spend most of his day in the god-awful catholic style uniform.

 

“Are those pants plaid?” Tanaka asks loudly from the back of their group. 

 

“You are the  _ master _ of deduction,” Tsukishima drawls. No one laughs. He adjusts his bag under his arm and falls in step in the middle of the group, letting Suga and Daichi lead them through the long walk around the campus. He can’t help but wonder if they actually know where they’re heading or if they’re sticking close to the outside walls so they can eventually find their way back when they get lost. 

 

Turns out, they’re not lost for long, because they run in to two students very obviously wearing volleyball jackets are loudly gossiping a bad-mouthing Kageyama. Tsukishima has to force himself to stifle a laugh, watching Kageyama’s ears grow red. 

 

“Yeah, The King loves to make tosses that no one can reasonably hit, and then get angry at his teammates about it,” The boy with tall, gelled hair says. He reminds Tsukishima of a shallot. The other boy, a dark, freckled kid with chubby cheeks, laughs in response. 

 

Tsukishima makes a move to keep walking, because he’d rather be getting changed and warmed up for the match than waste time on this. He doesn’t like Kageyama either, so he could care less about what was being said about him. Tanaka walks in front of him, overzealous as always, and drawls out: “are you talking shit about my teammate?”. 

 

Now in most situations, Tsukishima would have egged Tanaka on. Maybe on a better day he would have even just rolled his eyes and let Tanaka beat the hell out of them. Instead, he places a hand on Tanaka’s shoulder, and tells him to leave them alone. 

 

“Aw, you’re no fun, Tsukishima,” Tanaka complains. 

 

“They’re not worth our time, let’s just go get changed.” 

 

Tanaka grumbled but willing followed him back in to the gymnasium, following the back of Hinata's head in to the washroom. 

 

Tsukishima changed silently, tugging on his shorts, while Hinata threw up loudly in one of the stalls behind him. He sighed, bending down to tie his shoelaces. “Why are you so nervous?” 

 

The awful sloshing of vomiting pauses. “I have a weak stomach,” Hinata pleads, and then immediately begins barfing again. 

 

“Well you better quit it before they put Narita in,” Tsukishima replies, pulling the red jersey over his head. “Or before the King beats the snot out of you.” 

 

That seems to do the trick, the lock of the stall clicking open, and Hinata emerges a few moments later, clutching his abdomen. “You're so mean, Tsukishima.” 

 

“Let's just go,” Tsukishima replies, shoving Hinata out of the washroom ahead of him.

 

The gymnasium has come to life now. The squelch of shoes against polished floor, the cracks of volleyballs slamming down, the smell of forty teenage boys in one area. Two boys - one of them the ugly, freckled kid from earlier - wearing lime green jerseys, set balls for a line of others. 

 

“Yamaguchi, toss them higher!” A guy with curly hair barks. 

 

Freckles, clearly startled by the shout, tosses the ball so high it hits the rafters of the gym. Tsukishima openly laughs. 

 

“Sorry, I'm so sorry, Iwaizumi-senpai!” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Tsukishima could confidently say that Aoba Johsai wasn't that great of a team, and he didn't know why Daichi had made such a fuss about it. Aside from Iwaizumi, the stone faced upperclassman with caterpillar eyebrows, an ace that blew away even his middle blocking, Aoba Johsai was fairly,  _ well,  _ average. 

 

He would also wager that if Hinata hadn't absolutely blew their chances in the first set, they could have easily won straight sets. Instead, Hinata had fumbled ball after ball, before finally serving one straight in to the back of Kageyama’s head. 

 

“Nice one,” Tsukishima jeered. “You'll have to show me that next time.” Shallot-top also joined in with the teasing, until the whistle blew for the start of the next set. This time, Tsukishima covered the back of his head whenever a teammate served. Never could be too cautious. 

 

First serve goes off without any more bodily harm - and Tsukishima stands uselessly beside the net until Freckles tosses the ball to their ace. He jumps to block because he has to, but even though his hands make contact with it, it goes ricocheting off towards the left, out. 

 

“Yamaguchi, please make the tosses a little higher,” Caterpillar eyebrows says, taking his place to serve when the volleyball is collected and thrown to him. 

 

“I’ll try harder,” Freckles replies, and wrings his hands anxiously. He had to be a first year, Tsukishima would eat his socks if he wasn’t. The nervous energy surrounding him, and the few  _ okay-ish _ receives he had made in the last set were pretty dead ringers for that. 

 

He definitely lacked whatever confidence Kageyama had. Kageyama probably had it coursing through his blood, however, nothing seemed to shake the bastard. 

 

“You set to your senpai an awful lot,” Tsukishima comments, while they all situate back into formation. Freckles is directly across from him, sweaty, and rosie red cheeks. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

Tsukishima smirks, and simply takes his position, ignoring Freckles’ fake dumb face. And when he set to caterpillar eyebrows (higher, like requested), Tsukishima is already there to block. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Between Tsukishima and the freak duo’s quick, the second set goes to Karasuno. They all tiredly form a semi-circle around Takeda, while Kiyoko passes out water bottles. The tape on Tsukishima’s is peeling off, and after he guzzles water, he spends his time playing with the sticky side. 

 

“Take-sensei, may I say something?” Kageyama asks, setting aside his bottle. The teacher nods, smiling. He’s too nice. Tsukishima would have taken duct tape to half these kids’ mouths a long time ago. “I don’t think their setter is their official setter.” 

 

So, Kageyama did have a few brain cells rattling in their somewhere. Tsukishima had noticed pretty quickly that the ball was going to Eyebrows more often than not - and once Freckle’s had noticed that he’d been figured out, he had fumbled a toss to an unexpecting Shallot-top. They had only managed the point because Tsukishima wasn’t marking him - Hinata was. It didn’t matter how bad the toss was, nearly everyone could spike over Hinata’s head with little effort. 

 

“Why would they be using a sub-setter?” Tanaka asks. 

 

“Maybe because it’s not an official match?” Suga suggests helpfully. “Or, maybe they’re sick. Maybe they want to see how the sub setter will do in this kind of situation without the potential of losing a tournament. There’s lots of possibilities.” 

 

Just as Kageyama opened his mouth to reply, a rouse of shrieks coursed through the gym, mainly from the girls that were watching from the stands. Tsukishima glances over, where a beautiful brunette man had joined the opposing team, still in joggers and a sweatshirt. “Who’s that? A manager?” 

 

“That’s Oikawa,” Kageyama says, softly. “ _ He’s  _ the official setter. He has to be. He was an upperclassman when I was in middle school.” 

 

“Ah, I think I remember him.” Daichi looks thoughtfully toward the other group, while Oikawa strips off outer clothes revealing his volleyball clothes underneath, increasing the volume of shrieks. “He was vice captain last year, I think?”

 

“You think?” Tsukishima asks. 

 

Before anyone can reply, a whistle blows, and they hand their things back to Kiyoko, falling back in to the court. Tsukishima notices that Oikawa hangs back by the benches, doing warm-up exercises. He does them like he’s trying to seduce someone, and by the way the students watch him, he has them all enthralled. 

 

_ Gross _ , he can’t help but think. 

  
  


**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

After the last set, the two teams make their way down to the cafeteria. Nothing makes teenage boys hungry like playing sports for two hours, and Yamaguchi was no exception. He had even packed a second bento that day in preparation. He had retrieved the boxed lunch from his gym locker, changed his sweaty socks and shoes, and slipped his jacket on. He had played every moment aside from the last ten minutes when Oikawa took over - and he was  _ whooped _ . 

 

When Oikawa had approached him the day before, mentioning that he had twisted his ankle while playing tag with his young nephew, he had figured a practice game couldn’t be that much harder than the practices they held. Boy, was he wrong. 

 

Honestly, between the combination of anxiety and intense physical activity, Yamaguchi was sure he was going to die sometime during the second set. It certainly didn’t help to have Karasuno’s giant staring him down. He clutched his lunch tighter just thinking about that, the blonde had looked ready to stuff him in a trashcan. 

 

The cafeteria had an obvious split in teams - Karasuno to the left, and Aoba Johsai to the right. A few students that still hung around for their own activities were buying drinks from the vending machine, but left quickly. 

 

Yamaguchi hadn’t really made any friends with anyone on the volleyball team, yet. Kumini and Kindaichi didn’t seem to mind him, but they didn’t seek him out for company, either. Aside from Oikawa, and a rather stern faced Iwaizumi, no one went out of their way to make Yamaguchi feel like part of the team. 

 

Unfortunately, Oikawa was eating next to Iwaizumi at the small table (“ _ just for two _ !” Oikawa had explained, winking, on his first week there), and even if he hadn’t, there was an unspoken rule to leave him alone when he was trying to flirt his way into Iwaizumi’s heart, or pants, depending on who you asked. 

 

So, Yamaguchi sets his lunch on the other small table in the cafeteria, sits, and starts eating, like the fucking loser he is. He had already done it all throughout middle school, so it doesn’t sting as much as he thought it was going to. 

 

“Can I sit here?” A voice asks from above him, and he nearly chokes on the grapes when he looks up to see Karasuno’s giant blonde towering over him again. He gestures vaguely to the other seat because he’s afraid that if he says no, the giant really is going to snap all his limbs off like they were toothpicks. He gulps, watching the blonde lower himself in to the opposite chair, and he’s suddenly reminded that this is the  _ small table.  _

 

“I’m Tsukishima,” The blonde, Tsukishima, offers, while unwrapping his bento. He takes the lid off, revealing an assortment of colors, and it definitely puts Yamaguchi’s last minute tossed together bento to shame.

 

“Yamaguchi,” He replies, and thumbs his carrot and celery sticks. “Uh, why aren’t you sitting with Karasuno?” 

 

Tsukishima grits his teeth. “They, uh, don’t enjoy my company.” 

 

Yamaguchi suddenly decides his blueberries and strawberries are the most interesting thing in the world, trying to fish out the grapes and blueberries. He hates strawberries with a passion, but considering he had barely hauled himself out of bed in time to make his train, he didn’t have time to be choosey with him lunch. 

 

“Do you like cherry tomatoes?” Tsukishima asks, after they’ve sat in silence for nearly fifteen minutes. The teams have moved on from quiet chatter to making a ruckus - Kindaichi and a few others are playing with the paper with straws, or flicking spoons and each other. Some of the boys from Karasuno seem to be tossing a bottle of soda back and forth, which seems like a dangerous game that he wouldn’t partake in.

 

“Yeah they’re okay,” Yamaguchi says, and Tsukishima places five little cherry tomatoes in an empty nest in his bento. “Do you like strawberries? You can have them if you like them, I hate them.” 

 

Tsukishima hesitates briefly, before picking his chopsticks back up and plucking the slices of hated fruit from Yamaguchi’s bento. 

 

“We’re leaving, Tsukishima,” Someone from Karasuno calls. Yamaguchi thinks he might be the captain, but he’s not sure. One of the other boys, the tiny one with orange hair, has stripped off a now soda-soaked shirt. 

 

Yamaguchi waves a half-hearted goodbye to the blonde, and then watches Karasuno leave through the cafeteria door. He can feel his pulse slow down, realizing that he managed to avoid being eaten alive by Tsukishima. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed the chapter please leave a kudos and/or comment! ♡


	3. Found / Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed and/or left kudos! It means a lot to me! ♡
> 
> This chapter doesn't focus a whole lot on tsukki/yama, more like them as individuals, but next chapter is gonna be a big ship one!!!! Promise!!!

Before Yamaguchi knew it, it was time for Interhigh preliminaries. He had never been to any official games, although he had watched a few that aired on television. 

 

“You can hang on to me, Yamaguchi,” Oikawa said, when they entered the Sendai Gymnasium. There was hundreds of people milling around, talking, being loud. Other students from volleyball teams practiced outside, rallying balls back and forth. Yamaguchi's palms turned sweaty, but latches on to Oikawa’s jacket nonetheless. 

 

Yamaguchi knew he wasn't on the starting line up, and he probably wasn't going to be switched in for anything except pinch-serving. However, he could still feel his stomach rolling uncomfortably with anxiety. What if he did get switched in, and was the reason they lost? 

 

“I'm going to go use the bathroom,” Yamaguchi said, and before anyone could reply he bolted towards the nearest bathroom. 

 

The bathroom, however was packed, and he could feel his vomit recede back down his throat when he opened the door to the bathroom only to find it jam packed with scary men wearing various jersey colors. His stomach clenched, and trying as nonchalantly as possible he walked to an open sink and turned it on full blast, wondering if it was possible to drown himself. 

 

“You don’t look so good, do you want a mint?” Someone asks, tapping him on his shoulder. He turned around, letting the water run over his hands, while he stares in the face of probably the scariest man in existence. 

 

He ducked his head under the water stream, trying to ignore the bile rising in his throat again. How did he ever think volleyball was the least scary sport? Between Tsukishima and now this  _ man  _ that looked like he belonged in the Yakuza, Yamaguchi was probably going to die of heart failure. 

 

Unfortunately when he doesn't drown and he reemerges from under the faucet stream, Yakuza-man is still staring down at him. He blindly grabs a fistful of paper towels and buries his face in to them. 

 

“Hey, I have a weak stomach too, it's nothing to be ashamed of,” The man says, and rummages in his volleyball jacket pocket, before pulling out a handful of mints. “How many would you like?” 

 

“Uh,” Yamaguchi managed, while the man counted the mints out. “Two?” 

 

He’s passed two of the mint candies, and immediately unwraps one and pops it in his mouth. The taste didn’t do anything to help his stomach, but the taste of bile left, at least. 

  
  


**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

When Yamaguchi was in fourth grade, there was a student that sat two seats in front of him. This was quite a problem, because the kid was a giant and Yamaguchi  _ still  _ looked like a five year old - the tags on his shirts had proudly proclaimed size ⅚ Kids. 

 

The kid also had a face that looked permanently pissed off, with a scowl so deep that Yamaguchi was afraid it would freeze that way permanently - maybe it already had, because Yamaguchi never saw a smile on his face. 

 

Aside from being the tallest, scariest fourth grader, the kid also happened to be the smartest. Yamaguchi was smart, but his inability to grasp English left his grades second behind the giant, who had proudly announced one day that his mother was American, and so he was bilingual, whatever that meant.

 

Walking onto the court of their first match reminds Yamaguchi of the giant kid, all frowns and tall and lanky builds. There's a few shorter players, but most are the same height as him or taller - liberos being the exception, but the liberos for every team all seem chatty and comfortable. 

 

“Ugh, Seijoh,” Someone scoffs and Yamaguchi wants to disappear into his jersey. “I hate going up against them first, everyone knows it's going to be them and Shiratorizawa.” 

 

“I dunno, man, I heard that Karasuno kicked fucking ass with it's first match. Might have to watch out for them this year.” 

 

“Yeah right, between Iwaizumi and-” Yamaguchi doesn't hear the rest of the conversation because Hanamaki has grabbed the back of his jersey and all but dragged him in to the semi-circle.

 

“Yamaguchi did you hear anything we said?” 

 

Yamaguchi flounders for an answer, sneaking a peak at the other team again. One of them has facial hair. 

 

Oikawa smiles. “We're gonna put you in to serve during the second set! Spice it up a little. And I'm going to toss to you and you're gonna spike it.”

 

“I can’t spike,” He replies automatically. 

 

“Sure you can, you just like to pretend you can't,” Oikawa ruffles his hair. “Besides, you can't be a one-trick pony forever or we're never going to get to nationals.” 

 

“You can’t spike, dumbass,” Iwaizumi says, which makes Oikawa yelp indignantly. 

 

“I can too! I just don’t like to get all sweaty like you, Iwa-chan, you disgusting gorilla.” Oikawa proves his point by pretending to jump and spike, and then dramatically wiping his forehead and shoving his nasty hand in to everyone’s face. Yamaguchi manages to hold back a gag. “You think this face could stay this beautiful if I was a wing spiker? God gave me the gift of being the perfect setter for a  _ reason _ !” 

 

“Whatever, dumbass,” Iwaizumi manages, smacking Oikawa’s hand away from his face. Oikawa flips him the finger before shoving his hands in to his jacket. “Just tip it, Yamaguchi. Or make Oikawa do a dump.” 

 

“Uh, what’s a tip-?” He says, but his question is drowned out by the whistle is being blown, signalling the start of their warm-up. He ambles on to the court and starts setting parallel to Oikawa. Even when he’s shoved in the waiting square with the other rejects for the starting line-up, he doesn’t dare question what a tip is - everyone is already fed up with his inability to understand basic volleyball terms. 

 

The first set goes to them easily - between Oikawa’s jump serve and Iwaizumi’s crushing spikes, and it’s fascinating to watch. Oikawa is smart on the court and quickly adapts to change the way Yamaguchi still cannot, and even makes a dump to score their last point, sending the whole gymnasium in to a state of riot. 

 

“That was ballsy,” Yahaba says, although Yamaguchi knows better than anyone that he respects the ground Oikawa walks on. “Man, everytime I think I know Oikawa he does shit like that.” 

  
  


**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

When Yamaguchi is given the paddle to sub Kumini he realizes just how stupid of an idea this really is, and wonders if Oikawa smoked crack when he came up with this idea. Kumini was the one that taught him how to serve, and he’s still not that good. His stomach turns pathetically when Kumini takes the paddle from him, and the whistle blows next to his ear. 

 

“Just get it over the net,” Kumini encourages, before he’s forced to step back out of bounds and Yamaguchi takes his step on to the court. Thankfully, from where he’s forced to stand he can barely make out the faces of the opposing team, but Iwaizumi’s sweaty face definitely doesn’t look too happy to see him. 

 

Kindaichi passes him the ball and it fumbles in his sweaty grasp. He tries to take a deep breath to calm down, but it just makes his chest tighter and he’s afraid to breathe at all, his stomach feels like it’s going to slide out of his mouth. 

 

“Nice serve!” Oikawa calls, and it pulls him from his trainwreck of anxiety. He sends a watery smile his way, and closes his eyes, waiting for the whistle. It blows and he tosses the ball in the air, taking a running start after it, when he realizes with dawning horror that he’s messed up the timing, and only the tips of his finger slam in to the ball rather than his palm. The ball lurches forward, wavering slightly with the stupidly bad serve, and it’s not until Iwaizumi quickly shoves him over to the left, receiving the ball that he thought was still in Oomisaki territory. 

 

He rushes over to spiking position, and Oikawa squats and tosses the ball way  _ too high _ for him. He manages to place his fingertips on the ball and shove it forward, but none of it has the power or direction of a spike, and it thumps pathetically on to the floor of the gym, with Oomisaki’s libero slamming on his stomach trying to get it. 

 

“Ah, what a good tip, Yama-chan!” Oikawa says, eyes sparkling like he was considering crying. “See I knew you could do it!” 

 

It dawns on Yamaguchi that Oikawa tossed him the too-high ball on purpose, and realizes he has a lot to learn about being a setter still. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

After they take the match, and Yamaguchi poor heart has been thoroughly exhausted, Kindaichi suggests they go and watch Karasuno’s match versus Date Tech. 

 

“Depending on who wins, that’ll be our next match,” Kindaichi says, and they find seats in the stands. Yamaguchi leans close to the railing, watching the two teams play. Date Tech’s players all look huge, towering over nearly every player on Karasuno. 

 

“Karasuno is kind of a short team, huh?” Yamaguchi says, thoughtfully. “Aside from that one guy, ah, Tsuki-something?” 

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that Karasuno’s just a bunch of ragtag guys that like volleyball and don’t put much effort in. Not since their coach retired, at least. Who knows, though, since they have the king,” Kindaichi sneers. “Thank fucking god he decided he was too good for Aoba Johsai.” 

 

Yamaguchi considers the loaded conversation, and instead focuses on the match. His attention moves from the short libero who quickly and almost effortlessly digs up spikes and blocked balls, and instead finds his attention drawn to the blonde in the front. He didn’t look as frightening from the height of the stands, his face was too placid and sweaty to be scary. 

 

The whistle blows, and it's only then that Yamaguchi realizes the first set has gone to Karasuno, and that they're taking a break. 

 

“I feel like wearing glasses would be a bad idea while playing volleyball,” He says. 

 

“Yeah, like, wear contacts,” Kindaichi agrees. 

 

Yamaguchi tries to imagine the blonde without the glasses, but his mind draws a blank. “Maybe it's his brand.” 

 

Kindaichi scoffs.

 

The whistle blows and the teams converge back on to the court. Yamaguchi watches the blonde take a stand next to the one Kindaichi called King, and the ball was passed towards the back to a tall man. Yamaguchi recognizes him as the one that gave him mints earlier. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

When the match with Date Tech finally,  _ finally  _ ends, Tsukishima can’t help but let out a sigh of relief, and covers his eyes with his towel and wishes death upon himself. He's so tired. 

 

“Tsukishima-kun,” Noya sing-songs, and pries the towel off his face. He's bending down next to him on the floor, and if Tsukishima's skin didn't currently feel like it was on fire, he'd be grossed out by the nasty gymnasium floor. “We're fighting Seijoh next, are you ready?” 

 

“Fighting?” He asks, and then bursts into laughter. Out of all the people on the team, Noya was the one he hadn't expected to get along with. He was brash and stupid, but could be down-to-earth and funny when he wanted to be. “I don't think anyone is fighting.” 

 

“Dickhead, you knew what I meant.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tsukishima replies, and he forces himself to stand, brushing off his arms as he goes. “Seijoh, huh? I guess that means Oikawa is going to be setting then?” 

 

“Yeah, it's pretty funny. Kageyama is frozen like a statue just thinking about it.” 

 

“Maybe they should put Suga in.” 

 

Noya clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “My man, as much as I love Suga with my whole damn heart, Suga is an  _ okay _ setter. He’ll be better if he can watch from the sidelines for a while and then come in and  _ BAM _ , fuck it up, y'know?”

 

Tsukishima does not know, because he's pretty sure by the second sentence Noya stopped using real words and was just trying not to say fuck every two seconds. “Sure.” 

 

“I knew you'd get it man. Wanna watch Seijoh warm-up?” 

 

They have nothing better to do while they wait, so they watch Aoba Johsai rally, set, spike and serve. Tsukishima notices Yamaguchi isn't setting this time, but is rather standing in the back, practicing serves. And rather bad ones at that.

 

“I can't wait to receive that guy's spikes,” Noya says, pointing to eyebrows. “I bet I'd really feel the burn with those.” 

 

“You're so goddamn weird.”

 

“Excuse you,” Noya sniffles. “I can always go sit with Asahi or Tanaka I just thought you looked like a poor, lonely bastard.” 

 

“You're absolutely right, thank you for gracing me with your presence Noya-senpai,” Tsukishima replies drily. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Tsukishima realizes pretty quickly that there's not a chance in hell they're going to win against Aoba Johsai. It doesn't matter how many balls Noya receives, or how many Asahi spikes or Tsukishima blocks, Karasuno is too disjointed to win against Aoba Johsai. 

 

Oikawa's team moves like one unit - they know where to go and when to go. They tease and have fun, but they're keen and don't let too many balls through. Oikawa, for as annoying and stupid as he acted a few weeks ago, was actually quite smart, Tsukishima could practically see the cogs turning in his eyes, watching them play, dissecting the signals Suga had come up with for them. 

 

Karasuno on the other hand,  _ well,  _ moves like every person has its own agenda. Tsukishima blocks, Kageyama tosses to Hinata, Noya receives, because that's what they're supposed to do, and they're only a team in the word. 

 

When Karasuno somehow manages to take the second set, he doesn't bother getting excited with everyone else. 

 

“Did you see the way that Libero set from the back row?” Noya asked, while they took their water break. “I want to learn to do that. Asahi when we get home that's the first thing we're gonna do!” 

 

Asahi looks at him with a bemused expression. “You don’t want to sleep first?” 

 

“Sleep is for the weak! We need to start as soon as possible if we want to get this ready by nationals!” 

 

“I, uh, okay,” Asahi agrees sheepishly. 

 

“I think you should be more focused on your current endeavor,” Coach Ukai replies. “You haven't exactly won yet.” 

 

Noya sighs, handing his water bottle back to Kiyoko with a sparkly smile and a wink. “Don't worry, coach, I got this. For my beautiful Kiyoko.” 

 

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

When Karasuno does lose, it hits like a load of bricks. He had been expecting, had known since they saw the brackets, and yet when the ball finally drops in their court, Noya just millimeters away from touching it, Tsukishima feels his stomach clench in a way it never has before. 

 

But watching Noya openly sob on Asahi, and Kageyama hide his face behind his hands while Hinata holds his shoulder, Tsukishima realizes how alone he is on the team. He gets along with Noya and Suga, but they both take refuge with their sadness with others, because they aren't that close with him.

 

Aoba Johsai is celebrating like Karasuno isn't having an existential crisis just a few meters away from them, because they can, because they  _ won.  _ Oikawa has Eyebrows in a tight hug, Yamaguchi is high-fiving what looks like other first years, they're celebrating and cheering and singing. 

 

For the first time in years, Tsukishima cries. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed please leave a kudos and/or review! It would make my day ♡ 
> 
> If you're interested, I have a tumblr! It's @dabikoto, I post hq, bnha, etc. and you're welcome to message me about the story there!! I'm bad at replying to comments here ^^;


	4. English / Mathematics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooooo much to everyone that has read, reviewed, etc ♡♡♡♡ 
> 
> I'm sorry for not getting this out earlier, its a little longer than the other chapters and work kicked my butt this week! And I've been watching the hq dub with my siblings (can you believe Tsukishima calls Yamaguchi "Tadashi" in the dub sjskkskdkdkdkkd!!!!). But my spring break starts on Friday so I'll be trying to pump out some writing over that!! ♡♡
> 
> Nishinoya/Asahi is probably going to be added next chapter or the chapter afterwards... ^^;
> 
> Also a few notes about this chapter!!: 
> 
> -No Yamaguchi at Karasuno means Tsukishima never helps Freak Duo with their exam prep! Likewise they never get the idea to get help from Yachi
> 
> -Tsukishima never gets yelled at by Yama about being uncool. 
> 
>  
> 
> ♡♡♡

Tsukishima had been looking forward to summer break. Notice the past tense here, because his dreams of lazy days spent watching his documentaries he needs to catch up on were dashed when Daichi announced they were going on a one-week training camp over the break. Combine that with the two weeks worth of summer homework, the 3-day trip with his brother, and the and the two day flower arranging class his mother asked him to accompany her to, his summer vacation was basically gone. Tsukishima had never hated someone so much as he hated Daichi at that exact moment. 

 

Which would explain why he’s currently standing in the middle of the world’s smelliest gym, dead on his feet after being awake since three in the morning. But no big deal, because his mood is pretty high, since Hinata and Kageyama were absent after failing their exams. Suga had asked him why he hadn’t helped since they were in the same age group, but he had simply snapped his headphones over his ears and tuned his senior out. 

 

“Okay, everyone,” Daichi calls, clapping his hands for attention. “Ennoshita is going to sub for Hinata, and Suga for Kageyama.” 

 

“Yeah, Chikara!” Tanaka whoops, drawing the attention of some players from Nekoma. Ennoshita, if possible, flushing three different shades of red. “Get it!” 

 

Daichi frowns, waiting for Tanaka to quiet before speaking again. “This is the longest training camp we’ve participated in, so please do your best. We are up against some  _ great _ schools, so use this time sharpen your skills.”

 

Maybe if they were lucky, Suga would get so good they could kick Kageyama from the club. It sure didn’t hurt to dream. Tsukishima decides against voicing this opinion, since his opinions seem to be particularly unpopular as of late. 

 

By eight, Tsukishima is exhausted. He’s not even sure how the others are still moving - his legs are like jelly, his hands hurt and he definitely has a headache beginning to form. And yet, Noya still slams himself on to the floor receiving blocked ball after blocked ball, as if they having been doing flying receives all damn day. 

 

“Hey, Tsukishima,” Noya calls, from his place on the floor. “Can you try blocking Asahi I wanna-” 

 

“Can’t,” He cuts off, rubbing his neck. “I’m gonna shower and go to bed, I’m exhausted.” 

 

Noya side-eyes the clock, and laughs. “Not even one? You’re such an old man.” 

 

“Yeah sorry,” He replies, and cracks the most forced smile he can possibly imagine. “See you in the morning, Noya.”

He leaves before Noya can start guilt tripping him. Everyone is busy with their own things, Suga tossing to Narita, Ennoshita practicing receives with Daichi, Asahi serving. He looks away before any of them can catch him staring and makes his way down to the showers. He doesn’t even want to be here. 

 

In the early evening of the second day, Stupid One and Two reappear, breathless and looking car sick. They’re in the middle of a match against Fukurodani, but they swap Kageyama in nonetheless. The score has already gone to shit, and it's not exactly like they can win at this point just because they put King Kageyama in. 

 

In fact, when the annoying silver haired fuck finally slams Fukurodani's last point in to the floor, Tsukishima is more than happy to do his flying receives. 

 

Shortly thereafter, the teams disband and are excused to do self-directed training. He manages to duck out before Nishinoya can catch wind of him and actually force him to block Asahi’s spikes. He leaves through the back entrance where only Hinata is hanging around, and shoves past him. 

 

“You could at least say excuse me, Tsukishima!” Hinata yells after him. He’s fallen to the floor after, and nursing his arm like it’s broken. 

 

“Fuck off,” He replies, and doesn’t bother to help Hinata back up. 

 

Day three starts out fine, they have breakfast, and Hinata sits as far away from him as possible, and he mingles in with the second years, while Nishinoya tells some lewd story about a dream he had last week. He mostly tunes it out, picking at his eggs, and honestly wishes the week would just hurry up. At this point, his mother’s flower arranging class sounds fun. 

 

“Tsukishima,” Daichi says, snapping him from his daydreams of chrysanthemums and roses . He glances over to the captain, giving him his undivided attention. “Uh, Suga and I were talking last night, and we think we want to try Narita in the starting line-up today.” 

 

“Fine by me,” Tsukishima replies, and takes a bite of his poached egg. 

 

As it turns out, sitting out isn’t half bad. He doesn’t have to do flying receives if he didn’t participate (or at least, Kinoshita didn’t and he sure in the hell wasn’t getting dirty if he didn’t have to). Being out of play for so long doesn’t make him antsy either, and he just watches the other team with a keen eye. 

 

In a way, it reminds him of a kid, just watching plays go back and forth, wondering what other players were going to do next. It completely removed the stress from him, and for the first time in three days he’s actually  _ enjoying _ himself. He hadn’t wanted to be here since they first announced the training camp, and he’s enjoying himself the most when he’s not even playing, he should really just  _ quit _ . 

 

Later, after he blocks for Asahi for fifteen minutes, he makes his escape, ignoring Nishinoya’s whines about him being a spoil-sport. He’s only about halfway back to the Karasuno assigned rooming when he’s intercepted. 

 

“Hey, you’re from Karasuno, right?” The guy asks. He looks vaguely familiar, with his messy hair. Judging by the bright red jacket, he’s from Nekoma, and Tsukishima has met him, he just doesn’t care enough to remember his name. 

 

“And if I’m not?” He replies. He tries to shoulder past, but the guy grabs his shoulder. 

 

“You’re funny, come block some balls for us.” 

 

“I’ll pass, thanks.” 

 

The Nekoma player laughs. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t asking. You’ve been recruited, so let’s go.” 

 

The guy is stronger than he looks, so rather than pathetically fight back and lose, Tsukishima resigns himself to following him in to the third gym. There’s already three others waiting for them in the gymnasium, one of them being the towering Russian-Japanese man that Hinata was scared of. 

 

“ _ Hey _ , you could have gotten someone that wasn’t such a grumpy-gills,” The silver-haired guy from Fukurodani says, frowning. “He’s gonna kill the mood.”

 

“What mood?” Nekoma replies. Tsukishima really should at least memorize some names because this is just getting ridiculous. “All you were doing was talking about Haruka-san’s tiits and no one cares.” 

 

“Yeah, like we wanna hear about Kozume’s unwashed hair.” 

 

“-Are we going to block balls are can I go to bed now?” Tsukishima interrupts. Bedhead looks like he has a killer comeback on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back down and tosses a volleyball to the quiet guy wearing blue. 

 

“Bokuto wants to practice his straights, and Lev needs practice on his blocking, so us three are gonna block. I saw you sitting out today, so I’m sure your blocking needs practice too, and as Nekoma’s star middle blocker, I am _ more than happy _ to help you out,” Bedhead explains, with a sly grin. 

  
  


**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Tsukishima is  _ more than happy _ when the training camp finally ends. Everyone on the team tearfully gives goodbyes to the friends they’ve made while there - Asahi having exchanged numbers happily with Gora from Ubugawa (“So he can practice his serves,” Nishinoya had explained to him reassuringly, even though Nishinoya looked like he was the one that needed reassuring). 

 

He had given a brief nod to Kuroo, who’s name he had finally remembered, while Hinata loudly sobbed in to Kozume’s arms, something about missing him too much already, even though they hadn’t even boarded the bus. 

 

When they finally get home, he has a blissful hour to himself before his mother collects him to make good on his agreement to the flower arranging class. He sighs and forces himself in to jeans and a t-shirt even though it’s a billion degrees and he’d rather lay in his room in his underwear. 

 

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to go to the one tomorrow,” His mother says, with her sweet smile she always wears. 

 

“No, I want to go, it’s something that makes you happy,” He replies, even though flower arranging excites him about as much as watching paint dry does. 

 

“Maybe there will people your age there, wouldn’t that be nice, Kei?” She asks, while she drives. She glances towards him, as if he were going to agree. It’s highly improbable that there would be someone his age there, and even if there  _ was _ , if she didn’t think he wasn’t going to be sticking to her like glue, she had something else coming for her. 

 

The class itself isn't too bad. It's run by a woman with so many wrinkles that he's afraid she's going to turn to dust and vanish, but she's very enthused about teaching them about flowers. They cover the different meanings of flowers, alone, grouped or paired, and she hands out a cheat sheet for them, covering the basics. Then she talks about colors and arranging, how to cut the flowers, picking appropriate vases and how to tie the meanings back in. Tsukishima's head is swimming with the knowledge, and he doesn't even know where to start when the old lady says they can start making an arrangement. 

 

“Here, let's do one together, Kei,” His mother says, and she picks out a chunky clear vase with a handle. It reminds him of a teapot. “Let's do one that would look lovely on our table.” 

 

“The walls are yellow,” He says simply, and he flips the cheat sheet to yellow flowers. “Sunflowers?” 

 

“Sunflowers are so big though,” His mother replies thoughtfully. “Maybe we should use that in the center and arrange other colors around it.” 

 

“Okay,” He agrees, and walks around the greenhouse room to find the sunflowers. His mother is right, they're huge flowers and when he brings it back, it doesn't even fit in the vase. 

 

“Cut it down, make sure to angle it,” She says, and he tries to, mangling the stem in the process. Apparently being a top student didn't help you with flower arranging. It sits in the middle of the vase pathetically. “Let's get some snapdragons too, I love those,  _ oh _ and white roses.” 

 

Tsukishima hunts down the flowers his mother requests and brings them back. He let's her cut and arrange them, filling the vase out more. 

 

“What do you think, Kei?” She asks. It's pretty and sweet looking, and will definitely look nice on their table, but something else has been pulling at his mind all day. 

 

“Mom, I'm quitting the volleyball club,” He says, because there's no better time to rip off the bandaid than when you're in the middle of your flower arrangement class. 

 

His mother doesn't quite react the way he expected. She twists one of the snapdragons in to a different place, remarks that some chrysanthemums would really bring the piece together, and sighs. “Kei, if that's what will make you happy, I think you should do it.” 

 

He smiles. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

His brother on the other hand, does not agree. 

 

“Kei, it’s not going to be fun all the time,” Akiteru says. “God, I was benched all three years of high school and  _ I  _ still play.” 

 

“I'm not you,” He replies, and wow he's really starting to regret telling his brother about this the second he entered the car. He should have waited until the road trip was done and he didn't have to see his brother for another six months. “And I know it's not going to be fun all the time, but it's literally never fun for me. Bokuto-senpai said when you block a really good spike, or when you spike a great toss that's when you feel the best, but.” 

 

Akiteru waits for him to finish, but he never does. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Tsukishima decides he's going to binge documentaries the day after he returns home, and then on Monday he'll start work on his summer homework. It's foolproof, except he's out of snacks. 

 

“Ah, you eat them so rarely, I threw them out when I was cleaning, I think they were expired,” His mother explains, when he's rummaging around in the cupboard for his crisps. “I'll give you money to buy more, if you want.” 

 

His mother rummages through her purse and produces the notes. “There’s a little extra there, can you pick up sesame oil too?” 

 

“Hill-Bottom doesn't carry sesame oil,” He says, but pockets the yen anyways. He'll just have to go to Shimada's instead.

 

“Ah I know, Gombe's usually has it on sale on Friday's but I missed this weeks, and I need it for dinner.” 

 

Shimada Mart was closer, it just wasn't a straight shot. Hill-Bottom was mostly for snacks and drinks and magazines, Shimada Mart carried just about anything you might need in a pinch. They also happened to carry his favorite Milki's flavor. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise that he needs to buy sesame oil. 

 

Someone welcomes him when he enters the mart. He nods in their direction and immediately locates the aisle with the ingredients, before browsing the refrigerated section for his drink of choice. He finds the fridge with Milki's and opens the door, reaching for the peach ones at the top. 

 

“Ah-ha? Tsukki-?” A voice calls, and he fumbles with the bottle, afraid to drop it, and cranes his head to see who is using that godawful nickname. 

 

The ugly guy from Aoba Johsai is standing beside him, and he looks so weird outside of his uniform, in a huge shirt that looked like it was going to swallow him, and tiny jean shorts. He averts his gaze. “My name is Tsukishima.” 

 

“Ah, sorry, I couldn't remember. Since you're blocking the fridge can you get me a strawberry one?” 

 

He's halfway to giving the pink bottle to him, when he remembers something, which is funny because he couldn't remember Kuroo's name for five days. “I thought you didn't like strawberries?” 

 

“Ah it’s for my brother!” Yamaguchi defends. “My sister is sick so I got put on drink duty, unfortunately.” His basket is already filled with cans of coffee and bottles of soda, along with a box of tylenol. Tsukishima feels inclined to believe him, so he drops the can in alongside Yamaguchi's other purchases. “Thank you, Tsukki!” 

 

Tsukishima grits his teeth but holds it back. He just needs to go and get his ponzu crisps, and he can be done and doesn't have to see the ugly kid again ever again. He can let the nickname slide. 

 

As it turns out, never turns in to minutes, because only one register is open and Tsukishima ends up behind Yamaguchi in the long line. He doesn't believe in fate, but  _ damn _ this has got to be the longest running coincidence of his life. “It's like I can't get rid of you,” Tsukishima complains. 

 

“Some people say the same thing about-”

 

“Don't finish that sentence,” He stresses, chuckling. “Next thing I know you'll be living in my house.” 

 

“Maybe I already am,” Yamaguchi replies, with the most serious look on his face. Tsukishima makes a mental note to check under his bed tonight. 

 

Yamaguchi gets called up next in line, the cashier hurriedly scanning the items, placing them in the cloth bag that Yamaguchi hands over. Luckily, another store associate opens the other lane, and Tsukishima places his items on the counter. “I,uh, forgot my bag,” He mentions, and the woman scans and places them in a flimsy plastic bag. 

 

“Seventeen hundred and thirty yen,” The cashier says, and he hands her the notes, taking the bag in reply. She hands back his change, and calls the next person in line. 

 

Yamaguchi is leaving the store just as he starts to head out… and heading the exact same direction as him. He sighs. 

 

“Are you stalking me?” Yamaguchi asks, when they both turn right at the same street. 

 

“No, I live this way.” 

 

“Uh-huh,” Yamaguchi replies, clicking his tongue. “Likely story.” 

 

At the next turn, Yamaguchi falls in step beside him. “Have you finished your summer homework?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Hm, I haven't either. I'm so bad at English, I've been putting it off.”

 

“English is no problem for me, my mom is English-speaking, it's Mathematics I have issue with,” Tsukishima admitted. “It makes no sense to me.” 

 

“Oh you're good at English?” Yamaguchi asked. “My best subject is Math, we should study together!” 

 

Tsukishima made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat. He didn't particularly like studying with others, but Geometry was kicking his ass. Especially the proofs that were assigned for over summer break. “Couldn't hurt, I guess.” 

 

“Nice,” Yamaguchi replied, and gave a bright smile. “I'm turning here.” 

 

Tsukishima looked down the street of his house. “Yeah, I am too.” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Yamaguchi was exhausted from practice. They only had a week left until school started again, and Oikawa was definitely drilling practice in to them like no tomorrow. His arms hurt, and he really didn’t want to work on his summer homework, he’d already cleared through all the easy stuff. All that remained was English. 

 

Yamaguchi sighed and turned on to his stomach, reading for the English textbook on his nightstand. The longer he put it off, the worse it would be. 

 

Unfortunately, it was already pretty bad because about a minute in to reading, he realized he was understanding about every other word. He was supposed to read the whole chapter, summarize in English, and answer the end of chapter questions in English, and he couldn’t even decipher the first paragraph. 

 

Tsukishima had offered to help, but he hadn't seemed that enthusiastic about it - and although they lived right across from the street from each other, Yamaguchi felt weird just showing up. What if Tsukishima wasn’t home? It was rude to just show up to someone’s house, and Yamaguchi hadn’t exactly asked for his phone number. Maybe if he proud a gift it wouldn’t be so weird.

 

He stood up, looking for a candle or something that he had never used and he could give to Tsukishima guilt free. He didn’t seem like a candle guy, but, there were worse ideas to have existed. 

 

Finding nothing in his room, he went downstairs, trying to find something, before coming face to face with the strawberry shortcake on the counter. “Can I take a piece of this to a friend’s house?” He asked his mother, while she busied herself in the kitchen. 

“Huh? Are you going to someone’s house? You’re never home anymore, always with that volleyball club,” She scolded, but reached over and cut a generous slice from the cake. She wrapped it in foil, and placed it in a box, handing it to him. “Be back before dinner, I’m making soba.” 

 

“I will,” He agreed, and took the box from her. “Thank you, mom. Love you.” 

 

“Love you too, Tadashi. Take an umbrella, it’s supposed to rain this afternoon.” 

 

He didn’t listen to her, and instead collected the homework and put his shoes on. He was only going across the street, so he skipped the umbrella and walked out into the blazing heat. 

 

The Tsukishima residency was a bit smaller than his own home, but looked much neater. While Yamaguchi’s yard was always overrun with children's play toys and plants that desperately needed repotting, Tsukishima’s house had a strip of pavement with a basketball hoop. He wondered if Tsukishima had siblings that played basketball, and hesitantly knocked on the door. 

 

Tsukishima did not answer the door, instead a woman with bobbed blonde hair answered. “Hello?” 

 

“Ah, I’m look for Tsukki-kun?” 

 

The woman had the most perplexed look he had ever seen, like a mixture of delight, worry, and absolute confusion. She waved him in, and called down the hallway. “Kei,  _ uh _ , your friend is here.” 

 

Tsukishima appears a few minutes later, adjusting his glasses. “I finished my proofs,” He says, and his tone sounds condescending like Yamaguchi should have pushed through his English. He definitely could have. 

 

“Ah, I brought you shortcake… I needed help with my assignments.” 

 

Tsukishima sighs, and steps aside as if welcoming him in. Yamaguchi sits on the floor and yanks off his shoes. “Thank you for the invite.” 

 

“Yeah, okay, let's go to the kitchen, my room doesn't have a desk.” 

 

The tiny table in the kitchen holds a beautiful vase of flowers and several sheets of homework, spread out. Yamaguchi glances at the scattered sheets of paper. “Do you want me to check the math?” 

 

“Do whatever you like,” Tsukishima replies, and sits in the chair by the wall, handing the sheets to Yamaguchi. While he does the calculations, marking where Tsukishima made mistakes, Tsukishima quietly eats the shortcake that was brought. 

 

“Ah, you got all but two wrong,” Yamaguchi says, handing him the papers back. 

 

“Jesus,” Tsukishima says through a mouthful of cake. “Where the hell did I go wrong?” 

 

“Well,” Yamaguchi starts, and walks him through the first problem on the sheet. Tsukishima doesn't seem to understand at all, so he continues on through two more problems. 

 

Finally, they work through the last of the problems, and Tsukishima flips open Yamaguchi’s English book. 

 

“I thought you were going to be working on conversationalist stuff,” Tsukishima admits, scanning the contents. 

 

“Ah, no, I can speak it pretty okay, but comprehending the reading and writing it is way out of my league,” He replies. “Uh,  _ thank you for the help, Tsukki.”  _

 

_ “Your accent could use some work,”  _ Tsukishima says, in near perfect English. “Alright, let's see, do you want me to read this and translate it back to you?” 

 

“That would be so helpful, thank you.” 

 

Tsukishima reads the passages carefully, reciting them back to Yamaguchi in japanese, and once he's done, he helps him write the summary and answer the discussion questions. 

 

“Ah, you're a lifesaver!” Yamaguchi says, collecting his things. “Thank you so, so much.” 

 

“It's raining,” Tsukishima says in reply. “You can stay here for a while, I mean, only if you want, I know you live across the street. We could watch a movie or something?” 

 

Yamaguchi weighs his options. It is only three, so he's not in danger of being late for dinner (yet), but if he is late for dinner…. “No, I should probably go home, or else my mom is going to kill me. I'll see you at the prelims for nationals, though?” 

 

“Ah, yeah? Sure.” Tsukishima agrees. He walks him to the door and waves to Yamaguchi when he leaves. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh!!! If you liked the chapter please review, leave a kudos and/or bookmark. It means a lot to me ♡
> 
> If you want to talk to me about hq/tsukkiyama I'm found on tumblr @dabikoto ♡


	5. Practice / Manage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! Thank you for all the comments/kudos/bookmarks it means a lot to me!! ♡
> 
> Notes: 
> 
> I'm so sorry Yachi... but she'll show up later! Probably like in two chapters??? I love her so much but this was planned from the beginning :( 
> 
> Asahi/Noya being added next chapter!! So excited!!! ♡ Noya is also gonna have a big impact on Tsukishima next chapter!
> 
> Yahaba for best senpai and....? (´꒳`)

Aoba Johsai practiced every day of the week except Mondays, unless you were Yamaguchi Tadashi, because on Mondays you would practice serves behind the Shimada Mart, attempting to better yourself at something,  _ anything.  _ Oikawa had really been cracking the whip lately, especially with Nationals preliminaries coming up, and he spent most of the week rotating through each position like an extra piece of a puzzle that was never going to fit, not matter how hard Oikawa tried. 

 

On Wednesdays and Fridays, he practiced setting with Yahaba, on Tuesdays he would spike with Iwaizumi to Oikawa’s tosses. Thursdays were dedicated to receives with Watari, and the weekends were for practice matches to see how they all improved during the week.

 

Yamaguchi never improved. 

 

Oikawa would say he did, with a smile, and a thump on the shoulder, but Yamaguchi knew the truth - Hanamaki would run faster to the ball when he set, Kindaichi would block higher to cover his holes. Yamaguchi would go home with lead in his thighs and hands that burnt and nothing to show for all the misery. 

 

“You work harder than anyone here,” Yahaba would say sometimes when he voiced his frustrations. Their practice for setting was placing water bottles that were filled along a line, and Yamaguchi would try to knock them over. “And you have improved, when you started you couldn't even touch the ball without crying.” 

 

Yamaguchi sucked on his tongue in annoyance to that particular add-on, but didn't reply. 

 

“Why do you work so hard anyways? It's not like you're ever going to start this year.” 

 

Yamaguchi knew that. The whole team knew that. Hell, his fucking cat knew that, it wasn't a secret. “So does that mean I shouldn't work hard?” 

 

Yahaba shrugged. “I'm just saying, it's not like you have to work yourself to the bone, especially when no one expects anything out of you.” 

 

“But I want to start eventually, and I can't do that later if I don't work hard now.” 

 

Yahaba didn’t seem convinced, but that just seemed to be how he was, always dissatisfied. He tossed the ball to Yamaguchi. “Alright then, let's practice some tosses. We have some prelims to win.” 

 

And that's how the day went, Yahaba and him practicing tosses, Yahaba fixing his form. At one point some spikers wandered in wanting to practice tempos and quicks, which gave Yamaguchi some better hands-on practice, even if he didn't quite understand the tempo explanation that Yahaba gave. 

 

“You know if you keep this up, maybe you can start your third year,” Yahaba says, although Yamaguchi isn't sure if it's teasing or something malicious. “You need to work on your poker face though, they'll see right through that.” 

 

Yamaguchi sighed and added “poker face” to the ever growing mental list of things he needed to work on. At least Yahaba was actually giving him advice, rather than the scoffs and eye rolls he gave a couple months ago. 

 

A few minutes later, Oikawa interrupts the group, and they all circle around him. He's not even dressed in gym clothes, but rather the school uniform still. Yamaguchi feels absurd standing next to him in his sweat-soaked clothes. 

 

“So we've been all working our asses off and what were you doing?” Yahaba asks, gesturing to Oikawa's lack of gym clothes. “Sucking Iwaizumi off behind the school?” 

 

“Yahaba, that's mean, you know I had college advising today,” Oikawa whines. “If Iwa-chan let me near his dick you know I wouldn't have come to see your lovely faces today.” 

 

“Still pretty convenient that Iwaizumi-senpai is absent,” Yamaguchi chimes in, and Oikawa's cheeks turn red. 

 

“He had college advising too-!” 

 

“What a likely story.” The whole group is in tatters, laughing and whispering to each other. Oikawa's mortified face tries to recollect the group, but fails after several attempts. 

 

Finally Oikawa swallows and claps his hands. “I guess you all don't want to hear about the wing spiker who’s going to be joining us.” 

 

“Ugh, we don't need another wing spiker,” Someone complains. “Who you gonna swap out now? I'll shatter your knees if it's me.” 

 

Oikawa visibly pales at the complaint, but continues on like it was never said. “His name is Kyotani, some of you might remember him from last year, he was a little, uh, uncooperative. But don't worry, I have him on a leash now!” 

 

_ Leash?  _ Yamaguchi thought, and is met with overwhelming silence. 

 

“He'll be starting practice with us tomorrow, and tomorrow we're also getting our bracket for nationals and going over our game plan! So come prepared tomorrow!” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Yamaguchi had tried to steel himself the best he could, but nothing could have prepared him for Kyotani, or mad dog, as Oikawa affectionately called him. He especially wasn't prepared for Kyotani to shove him to the floor during their practice match so that he could spike a ball. 

 

“Hey, that was uncalled for,” Yahaba shouted. “You do that again and I'll rip your balls off with my bare hands.” 

 

“What?” Kyotani yelled, and Yamaguchi wants to shrink in to the floor. His side still hurts but nowhere near the alarm he's feeling from the raised voices. They had drawn straws for their practice matches, and Yamaguchi had ended up on the team with Yahaba  _ and  _ Kyotani, which was turning in to a match to see who could scream louder at each other. For as scary as Kyotani  _ looked,  _ Yahaba was twice as scary, because when he said he'd do something, he really would. 

  
  


“When I toss to you, you'll know, but that toss wasn't for you, and almost went out of bounds, you do that shit again, I'll tear you to fucking shreds,” Yahaba gritted out through teeth. 

 

“If we get the point-” 

 

Yahaba threw the ball at Kyotani's head. “Go serve and don't fuck that up, asshole.” 

 

The rest of the practice passes without any more incident, whether Kyotani had learned self restraint or was truly scared of Yahaba was unknown, but Yamaguchi was free to spike the tosses he was given without fear of Kyotani slamming in to him. 

 

After they finish - with Oikawa's team winning 25-16, they all gather around in a circle with the coach for the unveiling of the brackets. He could hear a distinctive chant of “no Karasuno, please, for the love of god” behind him, but tried to pay it no mind. They had won last time, and they had only gotten better, he was sure if they had to go against Karasuno again it would be a breeze. 

 

“You're exempt from the first round after placing in the top four,” The coach explained. “So your bracket will begin with Dewaichi.

 

“Then, depending on who wins, you will probably face Date-Tech or Shirato. Please be aware Karasuno is also in our bracket-” He paused while a cries of disbelief swept through the circle. “But if you do face them, it would not be until the semi-finals.” 

 

Mizoguchi pulls out the magnetic clipboard with their tags on it. “This is the starting line-up we came up with for Dewaichi. They have several holes in their defense, so we'd like to put Yahaba in and let Oikawa rest for the match against Dateko.” 

 

Yahaba grinned, ignoring Oikawa's whines of unfairness. 

 

“Other than that, the starting line-up will remain the same. After the first set we're going to be switching Hanamaki for Kyotani, to test the waters. Yamaguchi we want you to stay warmed up for pinch-serving, and Kunimi we want you to actually work like a decoy.” 

 

Kunimi sighed. 

 

“Oikawa, any words to add?” 

 

“ _ Yes _ ! Yahaba eat my ass.” 

 

“Take me on a date first,” Yahaba replied, smirking. “Maybe I'll throw the match so I can wear that #1 jersey sooner.” 

 

“You wouldn't! Mizoguchi, you gotta let me set-” 

 

“I'm not going to throw the match, dumbass. I want to win as much as you do, stop freaking out,” Yahaba said. “We’re going to take down Shiratorizawa this year, and we're going to nationals and beat everyone's ass there!” 

  
  


**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

  
  


Tsukishima had filled out the resignation form for the volleyball club, signed it, and had his homeroom teacher sign it. Something kept him from turning it into Daichi, however. Mainly the fact that his teacher reminded him that students in college prep classes were required to be in a club or to help in after school tutoring.

 

Tsukishima hated playing volleyball, but he hated tutoring even more, so. for now, the form was neatly folded and tucked away in his bag. He hadn't decided what to do yet, but as the days wore on towards Nationals, he was having less and less fun. When the brackets were revealed, and the starting line-up was announced, he couldn't bring himself to care that he was starting,  _ despite his bad attitude,  _ Coach Ukai had said. 

 

After they ran through the bracket, the starting line-up and some strategies for their first match, Kiyoko took the stage, clearing her throat. “Um, Hitoka-chan has decided against joining as manager, so if you all know of any first years looking to join a club please let me know….” 

 

“Aw man, I thought she liked us?” Hinata asked. 

 

“She did, but her mother thought it was better to just help with after school tutoring. She said she'd come see your match if you got to the finals.” Kiyoko sighed. “So please spread the word that I'm looking for a manager again.” 

 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to realize that  _ he should be manager,  _ but by then the group has broken apart and started doing it's trainings. He doesn't want to make a scene, either, because he hates doing that, and so after they finish their cooldowns for the day and everyone is cleaning up, Tsukishima awkwardly sidles up to Kiyoko, while she ignores him. 

 

“Kiyoko-senpai, uh.” 

 

“I won't go out with you, so stop right there,” She says, zips her sweater up, and then turns around and leaves.  _ Fuck. _

 

He leaves after her. “It’s not about that, I wanted to talk to you about the manager position,” He calls after her. She stops, and turns back towards him. 

 

“Do you know someone interested?” She asks. 

 

“Yeah, me.” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

  
  


Daichi isn’t thrilled with the revelation that Tsukishima wants to quit playing so he can manage the team, and looks down at the crinkled form Tsukishima gives him with utter disdain. “So I suppose there’s no way to convince you to stay?” 

 

“Afraid not,” Tsukishima says, trying to make it sound like he feels bad. He doesn’t. 

 

Still Daichi looks at him like he offered to dismember a cat. “Ah, if you don’t mind, can you at least stay on the team through the preliminaries? You learn fast so I’m sure playing and learning the manager stuff won’t be an issue for you.” 

 

In collective total the preliminaries would last a total of four days, less if they lost in them. Tsukishima tries not to think about the agonizing pain that the four days would be - they’ve barely practiced with Narita as the second middle blocker. “I can do that,” He agrees. It’ll be a long four days. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the chapter please leave a comment/kudos and consider bookmarking! ♡


	6. Author Note

Author Note -   
  
Hey everyone! I'm sure after the break last week the last thing you wanted to see this week was an author note. Fear not, Two Ships isn't being abandoned, but we are going on a short break.   
  
Right now, I'm juggling full-time school, thirty hours of work, trying to find an apartment, and trying to get my car fixed. So that means for the past two weeks, writing has been slow or non-existent....   
  
As of right now, the next chapter is sitting at about roughly 2k words, which is about the normal length of a chapter. HOWEVER, I'm only done with Tsukishima's part and Yamaguchi's part is going to be another 2k or more. That means when Two Ships does come back, you'll be getting a good chunk of a chapter, with a lot happening, it's just not going to be for awhile.   
  
So, when is Two Ships coming back?? Well, basically when one of my many problems stops. College ends May 3rd for me, which is looking like the soonest thing to wrap up, and Two Ships will be posted the following Sunday to that. If I find an apartment or get my car fixed before that, Two Ships will be posted sooner! But for now expect the next post date to be the first Sunday of May.   
  
Thank you all so much for your support! I'll try to reply to any comments left if you have questions, etc, and I'll see you in May! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。


	7. Infatuation / Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COLLEGE IS FINALLY DONE! I'm free until the Fall and I could not be more elated!!! A little update: I had to buy a new car and scrap my old one, college is wrapped up (I'm hoping for all As but exams were rough...), and my work hours have decreased to something more manageable. I'm still looking for an apartment, but it's considerably easier when you don't have so much on your mind! :) 
> 
> I'm not overly happy with his chapter. It is long, but with Yamaguchi's portion you can tell that I was starting to get annoyed, unfortunately :( 
> 
> Also I swear to God this fic is starting to look like Yamaguchi/Yahaba and I promise it's not!! but Tsukishima is going to start being a stupid ass that thinks they're together
> 
> Thank you again for everyone reading, reviewing, etc, etc. It means so much to me! ♡

Preliminaries for nationals are a rough. Shiratorizawa was on the opposing bracket so they knew if they could just get through Aoba Johsai they could make it to the finals with no problem. 

 

Tsukishima didn’t have much faith, but Nishinoya _did._ The little bastard had asked Asahi on a date if they became the representatives for Miyagi, and Asahi had laughed and ruffled Noya's hair and _agreed._ Noya was a beast of a libero to begin with, but it was mind blowing to see the way he recovered balls over and over again. For Asahi. 

 

“I thought you were straight?” Hinata asks when Noya reveals that the  _ power of love _ is what has been powering his supernatural-like receiving. They're all crammed in the bathroom after the match against Wakutani South, like a bunch of gossiping schoolgirls. 

 

“Nah, I'm bi,” Noya says. “Can’t keep all of this to one gender!” 

 

“Hard to believe anyone of any gender would want to date you,” Tsukishima replies. Unlike the other two, who are standing in front of the urinals talking loudly while others skirt around them, he's washing his face in the sink nearest to them. 

 

“You're just bitter, Tsukishima. No one to butter your biscuit?” 

 

“No, and please never say that to me again.” 

 

Noya grins. “Come on I bet there's someone you like. Even a heartless ass like you has to get crushes. I bet you like them with long hair.” 

 

“Wouldn't that make Asahi my type? How do you know I'm not going to steal him away? Maybe his type is tall, asshole twinks.” 

 

Noya opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it, then his cheeks turn from ghost white to maroon. Tsukishima laughs and reaches for paper towel, drying his skin. “Don't worry, Asahi isn't my type.” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Yamaguchi Tadashi attended the same elementary school as Tsukishima. He only knows this because his mother had bought the cute little class photos that were available at the end of every winter, lovingly penned with all the names of the children by a student council member. 

 

Tsukishima had pinned them all to his corkboard over his dresser, like he did for everything else that technically was important, but he just didn't care that much about. Yamaguchi's freckles, chubby cheeks stared at him from the photos of grade one and four. 

 

If he didn't have physical proof that Yamaguchi had attended the same school - hell, sat in the same class - Tsukishima wouldn't believe it. He can't even remember the kid, except there he is in both photos, on the floor with the other short kids, row one, second from the middle on the left. 

 

When Yamaguchi had come over for help on his homework, Tsukishima knew that he knew Yamaguchi before this moment, deep down, although he had a hard time remembering from where, and it wasn't until later when he was hanging up his freshly washed uniform for the morning that he caught sight of the freckled face staring at him from the photograph. 

 

Tsukishima didn’t understand why they hadn't been friends - Yamaguchi had been patient, smart and friendly, without a trace of hot blood in him, everything that Tsukishima liked in potential friends, and yet he could barely remember the boy from his fourth grade photos. 

 

Tsukishima wondered if it was too late to befriend him. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Aoba Johsai gets the court to warm-up first, even though they just got out of their match with Date Tech, and he can see the lines of dried sweat on eyebrow’s face. It doesn't bother him to not be warming-up yet, but Hinata moves around like a squirrel caught in a cage. 

 

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” Hinata says, when they watch another spike slam into the ground. “Tell my sister I love her.” 

 

“Stop being a dumbass,” Tsukishima says instead. Oikawa and another guy are setting, and the deafening sound of balls hitting the floor consumes the gymnasium while the blockers and spikers practice. Karasuno wished their practice time was  _ half _ as intense. They usually rallied some balls back and forth, and the people that were good at serving practiced their serves. 

 

Not these guys, they took their ten minutes allotted and  _ ran  _ with it. Tsukishima scanned the crowd of Aoba Johsai players, which creeped to nearly two dozen of them, trying to find the spiky hair of Yamaguchi. 

 

“Tsukishima,” Kiyoko interrupted, while Hinata ran to her for antacids. “During this time, a manager would typically be boosting morale for the team, and getting anything necessary, like Hinata's stomach medicine, refilling water bottles-” 

 

“Understood,” He replied. He had always assumed the manager was standing around looking pretty, but Kiyoko had four or five notebooks filled with information that she had jotted down in her years as a manager, as well as her other tips and tricks - antacids in her pockets, water bottle labels, where the washer was at the high school to wash towels and uniforms. 

 

“I'm just checking,” Kiyoko reminded him. “There's more to managing than you might think, I'm trying to prepare you for everything.” 

 

Before Tsukishima could reply, he caught sight of Yamaguchi for the first time that day, behind the line, tossing the ball for a serve. Unlike Oikawa, however, he didn't run and jump for it, just strode towards it quick enough to catch up, and hit it so it wavered to the other side. 

 

“Was that a jump float?” Noya asked. “I want to receive that!”

 

“Looks difficult,” Hinata replied. “Wouldn't it be more effective to do those power serves like the Great King?” 

 

“Pinch servers only get that one go so they gotta make it count, if Oikawa and the others already put out those power serves it’s probably more effective to have something to throw us off,” Tsukishima explained. Noya punched his arm with a whoop and,  _ look who's getting technical! _

 

Another ball was tossed to Yamaguchi and he repeated the same actions, gangly limbs and all, the ball spinning off to just before the endline. He felt his chest constrict, and his palms getting sweaty, watching the serves. “Kiyoko, I think I might need the antacids too.”

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

For as difficult as Aoba Johsai felt the first time they played them, this felt like a cakewalk. Aside from their ace, the balls slapped back on Kei's hands like they were made of sponge, and Oikawa’s serves were being easily picked up by  _ The God of Love _ , or bouncing wildly out of bounds. 

 

They still moved like a unit, like one well oiled machine with one thought on their mind, but something was making the others tense, and near the end of the first set, they were greeted with what it was. 

 

The player greeted to the court had patchy dyed hair on his buzzcut, that looked like it really needed a professional touch, and the scowl on his face and tilt in his eyes was enough to keep even Tsukishima quiet. 

 

He didn't work with the other players, slamming in to them, or jumping for a ball that clearly wasn't his. Tsukishima might be a dick but he's nowhere near this guy's level. The first set goes to Karasuno because the dumbass leaps for a ball that wasn't his, and then proceeds to spike it out of bounds. 

 

The second set goes smoother, although deep down Tsukishima knows they're absolutely fucked this time around. Close to the end of the set, Yamaguchi is switched in, and Tsukishima is glad he's out with Noya in, because he feels his face flush immediately and his stomach prickle, like the antacids suddenly stopped working. 

 

Yamaguchi doesn't do the crazy power serves that Oikawa and Eyebrows pull off, or the lazy over hands that Tsukishima does on his turns to serves. His hand smacks the ball with a resounding thud, and it floats off over the net, and-

 

“Out!” Noya calls, and stands back from his receiving position. The ball descends and lands right beside him with a  _ smack _ . Noya looks at the ball with a fire in his eyes, scooping it up to roll it back to Yamaguchi. “Don't think you’ll get away with that twice!” 

 

He does. And a third time. Noya finally is able to pick up the fourth one, at an awkward angle with his foot splayed out too far and his nose millimeters from smashing in to the floor. Tsukishima’s stomach is still doing some weird flips and he chugs water like he'll never get it again, but the feeling doesn't stop. His face feels hot just watching Aoba Johsai rally the ball back to Karasuno. 

 

Their libero picks it up, Oikawa set it to Yamaguchi and when Yamaguchi jumps to spike it, his shirt rides up, exposing a strip of freckled skin. Tsukishima’s stomach does a nasty turn and he turns, tapping Suga on the arm. “I don’t feel good. Send Narita in if you have to.” 

 

He escapes to the bathroom, leaving behind the echoes of screeches and chants and volleyballs being slapped around. He enters a stall and makes sure to lock it behind it, since he doesn't want anyone to intrude on him vomiting his guts out. Except his stomach doesn't heave with nausea, and aside from the sweat dripping down his face from exertion, he feels like himself. “Jesus,” He mutters, and slides down to the floor.

 

He sits there for a few minutes, just listening to dull roar of the crowd and shrieks of whistles. The bathroom door opens, just as he decides to rejoin the game. 

 

“ _ Tsu-ki-shima _ ,” Noya yells out, and lets the door bang against the wall. “Suga sent me to make sure you weren't shitting your brains out. I lost the rock-paper-scissors against Kageyama.” 

 

Tsukishima unlocks the door, peering out at the little annoyance. “I'm fine.” 

 

“Did you get all the yuck out? I normally feel better after a nice, hefty sh-” 

 

The blonde clears his throat, stopping Nishinoya from describing his pooping procedures. “I was fine as soon as I left the gym, I think I just got a little hot.”

 

“You weren't even playing that hard. Wash your face and get back in there!” Noya barges in, opening the stall door wider. Tsukishima manages to side step around him and walk to the sinks. “Suga said your face got all red and sweaty and your knees got weak before you ran away, it sounds to me like you were looking at Shimizu too long and needed to rub one out.” 

 

“Stop being disgusting,” Tsukishima replies, and sticks his face under the jet of water. It feels insanely good against his hot cheeks. “I wasn't even looking at Kiyoko-senpai, I was watching the fucking game.” 

 

“Oh, did one of the players catch your eye, Mister I'm-not-gay?” 

 

“ _ No _ ,” Tsukishima says, voice straining with the end of his patience on this topic. He reaches for the paper towels, fumbling around with them, before putting his glasses back on. “I'm fine, let's finish this.” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

There was one thing Yamaguchi knew in this moment. And that this was way worse than losing to Shiratorizawa - that had been expected. Shiratorizawa was a powerhouse school with four times the amount of muscles Yamaguchi had, and kids with crazy eyes that smacked back the balls like he could guess where they were going. It had been expected to lose then, but not now, against Karasuno, and Yamaguchi feels like his entire throat is closing while he tries to choke back sobs. 

 

“It's okay,” Oikawa said with a clap, and a huge grin on his face. There's thick trails of dried tears against his cheeks that everyone politely ignores while he finds his voice. It's hard to when Karasuno is celebrating so loudly twenty feet away. “We didn't get to be the representatives this year, so that means you're all going to be working twice as hard so you can be next year, right?” 

 

Even through the hurt, Yamaguchi manages a blubbery laugh. 

 

“I'm being serious, I'll be coming to watch every game, so Yahaba, you better start pulling your weight.” Oikawa sighs, and rubs his nose. “Thank you all for being a great team, and dinner is on your beautiful captain.” 

 

They all exchange looks. The teasing earlier for ramen seems like a hundred years ago. But one by one, the manager goes around and asks for orders so they can call the restaurant before twenty ravenous boys intrude. 

 

“I don't want anything,” Kunimi says sourly. “I'm gonna go home instead, I didn't really do much.” 

 

“Me too,” Yamaguchi inputs, before Oikawa can convince him otherwise. “Thank you, but it wouldn't feel right.” 

 

“Oh come on, your generous captain is offering you free food and you won't take it? I know Yahaba won't be half as nice to you all next year.” 

 

“Stop dragging my name through the mud,” Yahaba replied. “If they don't want to eat, I'll get two meals.” 

 

“Hey, I'm your captain for the next week still! Be nicer to me!” 

 

“Never.” 

 

“Maybe I should pick someone else to be captain next year-!” Oikawa taunted before he was deftly thumped by Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan that hurt.” 

 

“Yahaba will make a fine captain, quit yelling. Also I'm starving, and I'm thinking your yelling is a distraction to the fact that you're not really going to pay for us.”

 

Oikawa whined, rubbing his sore head. “Alright! Alright!”

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Yamaguchi rides the bus with them to the restaurant, and waves goodbye to them as they enter. The third years will still be there tomorrow, so the shock hasn't quite settled in, not yet at least. Three more days of training and then the only time he'll see Oikawa again would be by passing him in the hallways. 

 

It seems like  _ forever _ ago that Oikawa had entered the first year classes, screaming at everyone to join volleyball. He was all smiles and carefree attitude, shoving the flyers at anyone that so much glanced in his direction. Yamaguchi felt like he owed so much to him, for getting him into volleyball, and finding him a place to belong. 

 

_ Maybe I should make him a card,  _ Yamaguchi thought to himself, hefting his sports bag over his shoulder as the last of the team went inside the restaurant. It was sort of a silly idea, Oikawa would probably laugh about it and then tell him he was going to hang it on his fridge. He wondered if he was going to watch the finals tomorrow. 

 

His mother wasn't expecting him back for a while still, he had sent her a brief text saying  _ we lost, going out to eat.  _ His mother sent back a string of emojis ranging from hearts to snowmen, so he figured she was trying to convey a hug and pushed it back in to the depths of his mind. So, since he had free time, his first order of business was stopping at Shimada Mart and buying as many hundred yen onigiri as he had allowance for.

 

Shimada Mart is barren, and Shimada is missing, which Yamaguchi is thankful for. As much help as the man was in teaching him how to serve, having him present right after they lost probably wouldn't be good on his heart. He  _ knows _ he served good, but that still didn't stop them from losing. 

 

“Hello, Yamaguchi-kun,” One of the employees calls to him. She's restocking the candy bars near the front. “We saw the game on the tv, you can have a free drink from the fridges.” 

 

“Thank you,” He replies. She returns to stocking the supplies while he makes his way over to the fridges. 

 

Tsukishima stands in front of the open fridge, reaching up for a drink that Yamaguchi can’t even see the label of. Again. He opens the fridge beside it, which holds the canned teas, although his dad would pinch his cheeks and tell him they're not really teas. “Tsukishima-san we have to stop meeting like this.” 

 

“You're being rather polite today,” Tsukishima remarks, holding his drink in his hand. He can only make out the bright green mascot on it - probably melon or aloe. “What happened to ‘Tsukki’? Or do you think you have to grovel because SeiJoh lost?” 

 

Yamaguchi coughed, grabbing his canned royal tea (with milk!). “Uh, I was just trying to be polite.” 

 

Tsukishima's face does something very worrying, mouth frowning like he just sucked on a lemon, and his cheeks turn a faint pink. Yamaguchi wonders if he had bitten his tongue when he wasn't looking. 

 

“Well, anyways, it was nice seeing you,” Yamaguchi says quickly, and makes his way over to the onigiri shelf, trying to ignore Tsukishima’s stare while he tried to find the find the  _ kombu onigiri  _ left. 

 

“Sorry,” Tsukishima says after a long moment, approaching him. “That was pretty rude of me to say. Karasuno isn't even that good, your team works a lot better together too.” 

 

“Didn't stop us from losing.” 

 

“No,” Tsukishima agrees. There's a lapse of silence, and Yamaguchi finally chooses two onigiri and walks to the cashiers. Before he can stop him, Tsukishima places his drink beside Yamaguchi’s. “I'll pay if you walk with me.” 

 

“Where?” Yamaguchi asks, but Mamiko is already scanning items, ringing Tsukishima up with an even four hundred yen. 

 

“Home, obviously.” 

 

Tsukishima pays the amount and hands Yamaguchi’s items back to him. Yamaguchi jiggles the tea can. “Open this for me.” 

 

“No,” Tsukishima says, but then does anyways, taking it from Yamaguchi while the brunette stuffs his onigiri in to his bag alongside his gym clothes. He’s handed back the drink and they set out in the direction of their homes in companionable silence. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

Yamaguchi goes to watch the finals alone. He knows Oikawa is there, had seen him with his large glasses he only used during exams, and wearing khakis and a soft cardigan. He had been tempted to wave and attempt a conversation, maybe even sit near him, but then he had seen the spiky hair of Iwaizumi, and them pressed together as tight as the seating would allow, and Yamaguchi had decided to leave them alone. 

 

Besides, he wanted to wish Tsukishima luck beforehand. 

 

Anyone that isn't a coach, manager, or player isn't allowed on the court floor, so he makes his way over to the Karasuno side of the stadium, where a fairly large group of people stand, cheering, some leaning over and chatting with the Karasuno team. Tsukishima stands further away, leaning down towards a beautiful black haired woman, a notebook open, and pointing at it with a pen.

 

“Tsukki-kun,” He calls out, cupping a hand over his mouth, and leaning towards him. “Good luck!”

 

Three things happen immediately: Tsukishima's entire face turns beet red, the beautiful woman drops her notebook, and the tiny Karasuno libero erupts in raucous laughter, jumping onto Tsukishima. “Tsukki-kun,  _ Tsukki _ !” The libero jeers. 

 

“Knock it off,” Tsukishima replies flatly, and shoves the other off like he were a feather, before turning his attention towards the stands. “Thank you, Yamaguchi.” 

 

“You guys sure have a lot of fans today,” He says, motioning to the the students in uniform, and adults wearing orange, chanting. He can make out Shimada among them. 

 

“I'm not sure why, we’re probably just gonna lose immediately.” Tsukishima fiddles with his glasses, until a whistle blows, indicating Karasuno's turn to warm-up. He fixes his gaze on Yamaguchi again. “I'll talk to you later.” 

 

He waves, watching the team line up to practice spikes. Tsukishima towers over the rest of his teammates, taking the last spot in the line-up. Yamaguchi watches for a second, before finding a somewhat deserted area with the only other occupant being a short blonde girl. 

 

The blonde girl is cute, with chubby cheeks that burn pink and is holding a paperback that looks like it’s titled “volleyball for beginners”. She's wearing a school uniform, and thumbs through the pages of the book while she watches the court. 

 

“Are you from Karasuno?” Yamaguchi asks her. 

 

Her head snaps up, glancing at him, clenching the book tightly. She wears a friendly smile when she speaks, but she her eyes betray her with a terrified look. “I am! I'm here to cheer on my friend Hinata, and my girlfriend is the manager!” 

 

Yamaguchi can't remember which one was Hinata - Oikawa referred to all the members of Karasuno by nicknames except Kageyama, his junior, and Daichi, the captain whose hand he tried to break off. He surveyed the line of eleven, trying to remember one being referred to as Hinata, and eyed the red head. “Him?” 

 

“Yeah! He's so nice, and he’s in the starting line-up. Unfortunately I don't know a lot about volleyball….” She waves the booklet sadly.

 

“Oh, that's okay, I can help you,” He says. “I'm Yamaguchi, I'm here to cheer on Tsukki-uh-shima.” 

 

She smiles, this time with less fear. “I'm Yachi Hitoka, it's nice to meet you.” 

 

Yamaguchi nods politely, turning his attention back when a buzzer dings loudly, and a smooth woman's voice comes over the intercom. “Welcome to Miyagi Prefecture Representative Playoffs for nationals. We will begin by introducing the starting line-up for each team, starting with Karasuno High….” 

Yachi's first question interrupts immediately after the starting lineups are announced. Hinata immediately switches out with the Libero, and their captain readies for a serve. “Is Tsukishima-kun your friend? Hinata said he's hard to get along with.” 

 

“Yeah, he is hard to get along with,” Yamaguchi replied. Tsukishima was about as cuddly as a cactus, and last night had proved that. After he had apologized, however, they had walked home together while Tsukishima lent him an earbud and let him pick out the music on his phone. “But he can be nice too. He’s a good friend, I like to think.” 

 

“I’m sure Tsukishima likes having a friend like you, Yamaguchi,” Yachi says, and smiles wide. “Now can you explain to me why Hinata has to keep switching out with that guy in orange?” 

 

Yamaguchi laughs. “Sure.” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

The day after the finals meant regular practice was in session - Oikawa’s last practice as captain. Yamaguchi was still tired from all the excitement of the previous day, cheering for Karasuno and explaining things to Yachi and filing information away for later, it was all a lot and at one point he thought he was going to vomit out of excitement. 

 

Karasuno had won - by the slimmest margin, deep in to the fifth set, and Yamaguchi had nearly screamed himself hoarse afterward. He had grabbed Yachi's hand and they had screamed and jumped and screamed some more, until the medal ceremony ended and the teams began to file away. Yamaguchi hadn't gotten to say anything to Tsukishima before he left, but he figured it was fine, they were neighbors and would probably see each other again soon.  _ Probably.  _

 

And although the last thing he wanted to do today was go to practice on their day off, he forced himself to wake up at a decent time and trudge in to the gym. 

 

“After this practice today, Yahaba will be your captain, and as much as he sucks, please be respectful and listen to him,” Oikawa had started the practice with, hands on his hips and a wide smile. “And don’t think you can slack, either, I’m coming to all your games so I can yell at you after.” 

 

“Are you planning on failing your classes, too?” Yahaba asks. “Just you watch, I’ll lead Aoba Johsai to nationals next year and they’ll remember  _ you  _ as the captain that sucked shit.” 

 

Oikawa gasps dramatically. “Shigeru, you wound me.” 

 

Yahaba wrinkled his nose at the use of his first name. “Are you going to spend your last day as captain wasting our time?” 

 

“ _ Oh _ !” Oikawa said, clapping his hands, as if he had completely forgotten about practice. Yamaguchi wouldn’t put it past him, after all. “We’re gonna do some self-practicing! I want to see what you've all learned!” 

 

There was a collection of sighs, although the third years all seemed rather excited about not having an intense practice. Kindaichi and Kunimi set the net up, and Oikawa pulls the cart of balls out from the closet of supplies. Yamaguchi figures the best use of his time would be practicing his serves, which were a big hit throughout the games, although he definitely needed to get his jump float a little more precise, and he wanted to start working on jump serves. Shimada had also prompted an idea to learn the roundhouse serve as well, so that he had an endless arsenal at hand as a pinch server. 

 

“Yamaguchi,” Yahaba says, and tosses a ball his way. He manages to clumsily receive it, and it falls a little short of the future captain. “I want to talk to you.” 

 

“Oh?” He asks, voice small. 

 

“Yes, come here and practice receiving with me.” Yahaba leads them towards the edge of the gym, away from the crowd of teammates practicing with Oikawa at the net. Yahaba tosses the ball to Yamaguchi again, this time with much more force. 

 

They do this for a few minutes, Yahaba setting the ball with force, and Yamaguchi either rallying it back, or spiking it down. “What did you want to talk about?” Yamaguchi asks, after a particularly hard toss. 

 

“I was just thinking,” Yahaba says, collecting the ball. “I think you should be Vice Captain next year.” 

 

“Me?” Yamaguchi yelps. He's glad they're not rallying any more or the ball definitely would have smacked him in the face in his surprise. “Why me? I'm not even a starter!” 

 

“No, and you probably won't be next year either,” Yahaba admits, and Yamaguchi feels a sharp pain in his heart. “But I feel like new kids coming in would benefit from having someone like you. Someone hard working and friendly and not a starter that they can look up to.” 

 

Yamaguchi tried to imagine being the Vice Captain - Iwaizumi mostly was just the scary man behind Oikawa. Yahaba was going to be the scary one this time, so it wouldn't be that hard, right? “You can count on me!” 

 

Yahaba grins, and tosses him the ball. “I knew I could.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh so Tsukishima has a crush and Yamaguchi is gonna be VC! Once again I promise this isn't Yamaguchi/Yahaba no matter how close they seem 
> 
> Also I've been thinking about making a tsukkiyama youtuber au?? Just a thought? I haven't really decided but it would be more of "when inspiration strikes me" type of thing lol


	8. Vice Captain / Manager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhhhh I forgot to mention last chapter that this was skipping through the rest of the first year and just going straight to second year because... there really wasn't much left for me to do with the first year? SO this chapter picks up at the beginning of 2nd year which means everyone has gone through minor changes but nothing that can't be explained!!

Being vice captain meant more work than Yamaguchi originally thought. He had always thought it was the person that just backed up whatever the captain said, but boy was he wrong. Within the first few days of the start of the year, he had already had to settle two fights between first years, correct forms for receives, and given a rallying speech to a first year, while Yahaba wrangled the others. 

 

And to finish the first week, dutifully referred to hell week privately, Yahaba had gotten a bad case of chest flu that put him out for a day until his antibiotics and steroids kicked in, and the entire volleyball team had all crowded around him expectantly even though he had no idea what to say. 

 

He wasn't good like Yahaba at keeping the team collected and focused, or lighting a fire in them. He was good at the personal talks to get players reinvested or raise their spirits. So having ten boys his age and older, and the six new first years, look at him expectantly, Yamaguchi felt his throat tighten and shuffled his feet. “Let's, uh, work on our serving drills today.”

 

“Good idea!” Watari said. He was a lifesaver on getting the team invested in what the captain wanted done. Him and two of the first years left to get the balls and net out. Yamaguchi feels a little bad, because Watari, and the first year future-libero from Kitagawa-First, can't serve, so they stand on opposite sides and dig up what they can. 

 

Only two of the first years that they've gained are decent at serves, driving a hard hitting jump serve towards Watari. The others all use a simple overhand or underhand. One of them, a shy kid with messy brown hair,  can't even make them over the net, and they all come bouncing back towards him after they hit the net. 

 

Yamaguchi practices his roundhouse serve, since it's the only serve that he has issues consistently hitting off. His jump serve had evolved to something fairly powerful with the kind help of Oikawa before he started university, and his jump float was as consistent as it was going to get under the scrutinizing eye of Shimada.

 

But the roundhouse serve was something he had learned to do on his own, watching videos posted online, or from watching it happen in matches aired on television. He worked hard to perfect it, and it was something he could still barely land with accuracy. It didn’t help that he knew  _ children _ could perform the serve better than he could. 

 

Unlike the others, Yamaguchi positioned himself parallel, tossed his ball high and slammed his closed fist in to the ball. It zips off towards the other side of the court, falling inches from Watari's hand. 

 

“Nice serve, Yamaguchi!” He calls back, and Yamaguchi grins, scooping up another ball from the floor. This time, the ball catches in the net. Typical. 

 

After awhile of practicing, Yamaguchi steps back to watch the others. He circles around, watching them. Some of them, like Kindaichi, don't need any help, but the brown haired first year, Kenshin, with the shaky serve, definitely does. “Here,” Yamaguchi says, taking the ball from him. “You don't need to do anything fancy. Toss it up, and hit it flat with your palm and fingers. You don't need a service ace, just to get it in play.”

 

He hands the ball back, and the first year takes a small step back, tosses it high, and smacks it with enough force that it barely grazes over the net. 

 

“Ah, see you did it! Good job!” Yamaguchi praised. “You'll be a great server in no time.” 

 

“Thank you, Yamaguchi-senpai,” The boy mumbles, reaching for another ball that has rolled toward him. “Yahaba-senpai would have yelled at me by now.” 

 

Yamaguchi laughs. “He’s just a sour old man, come to me if you need any more help!” 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

The first week of the new year could be summed up in two words:  _ fucking hell.  _ Tsukishima had barely made it to Wednesday before he had wanted to roll over in bed and never get up again. Manager duties for volleyball were hell, being forced to be in the same vicinity as Hinata and Kageyama for the first time since their loss match against Nekoma were hell, and being sat next to the cheerful blonde girl in his new classroom was hell, and it all served to piss him off. 

 

It didn't help that Tsukishima felt particularly, well,  _ lonely,  _ lately. He had been hoping to spend time with Yamaguchi since they had gotten along well, and Yamaguchi made his entire chest feel like the sun exploded. But for whatever reason, they hadn't seen each other since Karasuno's match against Shiratorizawa. Tsukishima knew that with his team going to Nationals the time they would have would be slim, but he never once bumped in to him at Shimada's. 

 

The one time he had managed to work up the courage to press Yamaguchi's doorbell, a stern looking woman with a thick braid answered the door and informed him that her son was with “Yahaba-senpai”. It had stung, and he went back home and didn't bother again. 

 

So, yeah, the new year sucked. Managing, at least, was easy enough. All he had to do was fill up water bottles and stick names to them, and gather any important forms that Ennoshita needed. He had also had to do his best to take the new recruit forms and try not to scare them off, but the fact that they only for four applicants led him to believe he failed that task.

 

When real practice began, including the new first years, two wing spikers, a cheeky boy that was an all around good player, and a libero, Tsukishima got significantly busier. The beginning of practice meant that he had to keep notes about their players, other schools, and other schools players. Ennoshita would also come to him for assistance with increasing morale, but Tsukishima was laughably bad at that.  

 

Occasionally the girl that sat next to Tsukishima would come and watch the practices, even though she admitted knowing very little about volleyball. “It's fun to watch”, had been all she said when Tsukishima inquired about it. 

 

“Tsukishima,” Coach Ukai called to him one day. Tsukishima closed the notebook that he was trying to take notes in for Kageyama - so far he had gotten as far as pointing out that Kageyama was full of himself - and walked over to the coach. “Take has possibly gotten us a chance to participate in a small weekend training camp for Miyagi teams. Thoughts?”

 

“I don’t particularly care,” Tsukishima replied quickly. All it meant was more writing. 

 

“It would be before Preliminaries, probably over the long weekend when the school is closed for Memorial and Children's Day,” Ukai explained. “Take said that Johzenji and Dateko were interested. Possibly Seijoh and Watanuki South, too.” 

 

Tsukishima made a noise in the back of his throat, acknowledging the information. 

 

**.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。**

 

When the long weekend arrives, Tsukishima is the first to arrive at the building. It’s the same place from when they went toe-to-toe with Nekoma, and he claims the biggest room inside for Karasuno, dropping his overnight bag and opening the closet to pull out all of the futons and laying them out for the team. 

 

As the morning wears on, more people arrive. Among the first of them is Yahaba from Seijoh, who gives him the finger when he realizes Tsukishima claimed the largest room, Terushima and the Johzenji manager, and Noya along with Asahi. 

 

“Good morning,” Noya says, dropping his overnight bag on a futon. “I'm ready to kick some Miyagi ass. And Asahi is here to cheer me on so I have to do my best!” 

 

Asahi's cheeks turn red. “I have to be at work at two….”

 

“That's fine, I'll do all my good work before then.” Noya stands on his tiptoes to reach up to Asahi, presumably for a kiss, because he settles on kissing his shoulder. 

 

“Do you think your love for Asahi will make you grow a few more inches?” Tsukishima asks, watching him struggle to clamber the taller man. “Or do you usually keep a stepladder around?” 

 

“Normally I just climb him like a tree but I figured that wasn’t appropriate for your poor virgin eyes,” Noya replies, ignoring Asahi’s beet-red face. He gives his a boyfriend a hard slap on his back, and saunters out to the hallway, chatting loudly with the other teams that pass through. 

 

“I’m sorry for Yuu,” Asahi apologizes, scratching the back of his head. “He really wanted to me come watch I didn’t think he was gonna be like that.” 

 

Tsukishima brushes the apology off. “It’s cool, just stay out of the way.” 

 

More of the team trickles in, as do the team members from the other schools. Tsukishima spends the time ignoring everyone until Ennoshita arrives and gives him a run down of the day, and colored band to wear on his wrist during the trainings so that everyone would know he belonged to with the rest of Karasuno. 

 

“Do you know who we’re waiting on?” Ennoshita says, pulling on the training jersey over his shirt. “I know Haru said he was puking yesterday, so I know he won’t be here.” 

 

“Tanaka isn’t here,” Tsukishima replies. “And he’s your ace so if he’s not here we’re fucked.” 

 

Ennoshita groans, as if he expected this. “I’ll text him. If we have to do one round without him we’ll put Hinata in as the left, and put Yamamoto on Middle Blocker - he’s reliable just about anywhere, and he’s got the height.” 

 

Tsukishima didn’t like Yamamoto, he was barely a centimeter shorter than Tsukishima, but was extremely talented and charming, just without all the arrogance that Kageyama had about him. Tsukishima still didn’t like him. Still, without Tanaka it’s their best bet. 

 

Tanaka doesn’t end up showing up for the first practice match, but neither does half the other teams. Johzenji’s starters, and their manager, all take half the court, with Karasuno filing in to the other half, but Date Tech and Aoba Johsai don’t bother showing up to watch the first match happen. Tsukishima dutifully takes the score, balancing a notebook in his hand while he watches the match so he can make notes. The two other first years make loud comments about how unfair it was that Yamamoto got to play. 

 

“Someone go get the other guys,” Terushima says, when Karasuno loses by a slim margin. “I thought the whole point of this was practicing and learning about other teams?” 

 

“It is,” Ennoshita says. “I’m surprised, Yahaba doesn’t seem like he would slack off like Oikawa.” 

 

“He’s probably making out with his  _ boyfriend _ ,” Noya says, laughing. “I saw them come in together, and Yahaba was holding his bag.” 

 

“I was not,” Yahaba says, appearing seemingly out of thin air. Either he was already on his way, or his ears had burned so badly at the mention of him that he ran down to the court. “I have two bags.” 

 

“You’re not denying coming in together,” Noya replied. 

 

“You’re right,” Yahaba says casually. “Now, who are we playing against? We have a few things that we want to try.” 

 

Tsukishima notices Yamaguchi for the first time since they exchange has started, half hidden behind Yahaba like he expects Yahaba to provide full coverage from anyone looking at him. He’s wearing one of the practice jerseys, listed as number eight, and Tsukishima notices that his hair is pulled away from his face in a messy ponytail. What really catches Tsukishima off guard, however, is the small glint of jewelry on Yamaguchi’s nose, like it was trying to unsuccessfully blend in around his freckles. 

 

_ Fuck,  _ Tsukishima can’t help but think. 


End file.
